


Worth the Wait

by deathwailart



Series: Ithildin [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Developing Relationship, F/M, Hand Jobs, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:10:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following on from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1104818">A Bright Tomorrow</a> - Kili's wound has healed and (much to the relief of Fili) he's finally able to visit Tauriel in her tent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth the Wait

The wait for his mouth to heal is an eternity and a source of great amusement to Fíli when he catches his brother poking and prodding at the stitches and then the wound left behind once they're removed; it says a great deal that Kíli actually _allows_ Óin to slather foul-smelling ointments on it but Kíli is far too excited to care.  
  
"I think it looks better, don't you?" He asks Fíli as he examines himself in a small cracked mirror. For his part, Fíli rolls his eyes and contemplates lobbing a pair of dirty socks at Kíli's head.  
  
"Must be better, you couldn't talk at first and it was nice and quiet."  
  
"You don't mean that," Kíli replies with utmost confidence, putting the mirror down to poke at his mouth, Fíli watching to see if he winces or not – there's no wincing and Fíli grins.  
  
"No, you're right, I don't." It was too quiet without Kíli's constant chatter because they needed that at Thorin's bedside in those earliest awful days when both of them woke before their uncle leaving them to hover and worry, Kíli forced to stay silent lest he jostle his wound and make it worse. "Ever think this day would come?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Uncle giving you his blessing?"  
  
"Well, I think Thorin's still a bit strange on whatever Óin's been giving him – it's potent." Kíli has a point there because Fíli forgot he even had _legs_ thanks to some of his potions and elixirs but they both know Kíli's just ducking the question as best he can. "So I don't know if it counts as a blessing, half the time he still tells me I'm not old enough to do this or that. I mean he's honestly grateful for what she did for me and..."  
  
" _And_?" Fíli prompts when his brother takes far too long to actually answer him, watching him squirm and fiddle with his clothes. "S'not like you to keep things from me, you'll hurt my feelings!"  
  
The teasing works because Kíli huffs out a sigh. "In Rivendell, after dinner and Dwalin and y'know the _everything_ ," he begins looking utterly mortified, "Thorin came up and just gave me the most awkward speech ever since he told us that no, we don't spring out of holes in the ground. Actually, it was less a speech and more a nudge and," he clears his throat to begin a poor impersonation of their uncle, "'Well if you're happy lad then that matters more and you're young yet.' The usual awkward Thorin thing."  
  
Fíli snorts and gets to his feet, straightening Kíli's coat as best he can with one arm. "D'you want some proper advice for your lady love?"  
  
"Shut up you git, I've got this covered."  
  
"Explains why you've gone white as a sheet."  
  
"You're not helping."  
  
Kíli glares ineffectually and Fíli just sighs, tucks his hair behind an ear and, still mindful of his broken arm healing in a sling, hugs his brother and presses their heads together.  
  
"Look, for some reason an elf maid is actually willing to save your backside more than once and I've never seen you go this daft about _anyone_ , even that miller's son you took a fancy to a few years back."  
  
"If you try to give me advice then I'll stitch your mouth shut," Kíli threatens so of _course_ Fíli sends him off with a smile and a few choice words of advice that have Kíli going red, punching him in the shoulder. The uninjured shoulder. Gently. Like a vexed kitten.  
  
"Kíli?" He calls as his brother is sauntering (or it's Kíli's version of a saunter that looks faintly ridiculous) off to cross the camp to Tauriel's tent. Kíli pauses, frowning.  "Just...y'know be safe. Don't worry."  
  
"Right well this isn't a weird little chat to be having in the open at all is it?" Kíli retorts but he looks less nervous now and even waves. "Don't wait up!"  
  
"Course not, you'll be back in five minutes!"  
  
Kíli's parting remark is a filthy curse that has a few other dwarves staring but Fíli laughs and ducks back into the tent – he's going to have peace for the first time in days and he plans on making the most of it.

* * *

  
  
She has been told before that she lacks patience but she doesn't care right now – she has spent far too much of her life being patient, waiting, chafing and champing at the bit and Legolas is not helping whatsoever. Far too calm and serene when they're both in the tent together, he teases her about it mercilessly and she has to fight the urge to throw things at his head.  
  
"You're lucky that he's tall," he says lightly and she wants to scream but there's an interruption in the form of someone approaching the tent. Dwarven footsteps, heavy and solid and she feels herself starting to smile. "I'll take my leave, shall I?"  
  
"The sooner the better," she replies with mock-sweetness and as Legolas opens the flap to leave she sees Kíli hovering before grinning and pointing at his mouth as she practically drags him inside, dropping to her knees. "You've healed!"  
  
"It'll go white as a fish belly in time but no bleeding and no pain," he states proudly, beaming at her and it strikes her that this is the first time she's seen him smile like this, as bright as summer sun. "So now-" then he pauses and goes suddenly shy, "if you still-"  
  
She cuts him off with a kiss, cupping his face in her hands as he grabs hold of her tunic. She's mindful of his healing wound at first until he deepens the kiss, the rough scratch of stubble against her skin and the taste of pipeweed in her mouth, her fingers ending up in his hair.  
  
"By Mahal," he whispers when he pulls back to breath only to kiss her again and this time she tugs him forward so that she lands on her back, one of her legs between his and mindful of the wound to his thigh as her fingers explore his broad shoulders and down his back, tracing the rough fabric of his tunic.  
  
She's the one to break the kiss this time when she feels hands fumbling with her buttons. "I want to look at you when I do this," she murmurs and he grins, undressing the other in turn, unwilling to pull away until they must. He's not as hairy as she feared though he's still young but there's a light smattering of dark hair on his chest extending down and she runs her fingers through it with fascination as he mutters curses at the lacings on her bindings until he breaks off when she trails her fingers across a ticklish spot. She'll remember that for later.  
  
"You're so beautiful," he breathes against the skin of her throat as he traces his hands down her sides as soon as the bindings are gone and in a heap by their tunics and then back up to cup her breasts. He's got the same calluses as she does but where her fingers are long and slender, his are shorter and thicker, the skin rougher too from a life spent in a forge. She moans when he brushes his thumbs across her nipples and rocks against his thigh. He kisses down her throat, between her breasts and then takes one into his mouth, drawing a lazy circle around the nipple as he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger and all she can do is grind against him; recovered as he is now, he's solid and sturdy like any good dwarf should be.  
  
Still, it's hardly fair if he does all the work and she's close, the days of anticipation keeping her on edge, unable to do a damned thing given that she shares a tent and has been busy whenever she's not eating or resting, so she slides a hand down and plucks at the laces of his trousers, opening them just enough to get a hand inside and curl it around his cock. There's a choked gasp against her skin and he moves, ending with his knee pressed against her more firmly and she starts to stroke him slowly, running her thumb over the head of his cock, her other hand clutching at his back hard enough to leave marks. Both of them have stamina – both young for their kin, both able to go beyond the limits of the race of men – but he reaches up one with one hand and just about manages to stroke along the edge of her ear as he nips at her breast and she comes, crying out his name loud enough that half the camp have likely heard. It doesn't take him long to follow, the rhythm of his hips shuddering to a stop as he half-sobs her name, his face between her breasts and she strokes through his hair with her free hand.  
  
After a few moments he rolls off her and onto his back, just about staying on her bedroll as she wipes her hands off on a dirty tunic she hasn't gotten around to washing yet. She should change out of her leggings but she takes a look down at them both and tries not to laugh but Kíli follows her gaze, snorts and then they're both laughing until they can't breathe.  
  
"What a fine pair, still in our _boots_!" He crows and she puts a hand over his mouth to shush him or she'll never be able to stop but he licks between her fingers with _intent_ and she can feel arousal curl in her belly anew already.  
  
"Rest, or at least a moment. There's more I'd like to do first."  
  
"Really? Never heard of dwarven stamina have you?"  
  
"Perhaps," this time she straddles him, leaning over so her breasts brush against his chest, "I wish to test it to the limits entirely."  
  
She bends down to kiss him, swallowing his moan, hoping that Legolas will have the good sense not to dare interrupt them.


End file.
